Date: Sat, 20 Jul 2002 00:51:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Steve Draper <unclesteve_1999@yahoo.com>
Subject: 'Tom's Surgery' by Unclesteve (Gay male M/M Medical, Anal)

Usual disclaimers apply.

The thick soles of my shoes squeaked on the
ward's polished floor. A 35 year old male nurse,
I worked at St Augustine's Private Hospital.
Sliding the curtain back I found my patient
nervously waiting for me. Tom Speight was a 23
year old farm boy with a distressing problem. The
muscle at the neck of his bladder had thickened,
causing him to want to pee all the time.

I looked at my handsome but incredibly nervous
patient and did my best to reassure him.

"It is a minor surgical procedure, Tom. Normally
done as Day Surgery. However, your surgeon
thought it best you stay with us overnight so we
can make you more comfortable".

Riding a horse for an eight hour stretch in the
hill country was 'comfortable' for Tom. Being in
the strange environment of a private room in the
hospital was sheer torture for him.

"I better get you prepped for surgery". I
continued. "Have your bowels moved today?"

He blinked and then nodded his head like a little
boy.

"Tom, I'll get you to lie on your side, please.
Pull your knees up to your chin".

I snapped on a latex glove. The surgical gown had
opened, revealing Tom's beautiful pink buttocks.
His hairless crease displayed his pink puckered
hole. I lubricated a gloved finger with KY and
then penetrated his hot, tight tunnel. Tight?
Nothing had been up Tom's fundament since his
mother had cleaned it with a cotton bud when he
was a baby. I touched his prostate and saw the
front of his hospital gown tent. I withdrew my
finger.

"All done". I binned the glove. "Relax, Tom".

The farm boy rolled onto his back and had trouble
looking me in the eye.

"I'll get you to take your pre-med. It will help
you relax and make you sleepy". Who was I
kidding? A horse tranquiliser wouldn't have
helped Tom, the state he was in. Obediently, he
swallowed the two tablets with a drink of water.

"We're just about done", I said. "But I do have
to give you a shave, ready for the surgeon".

Tom ran a hand over the his manly chin.

"Your face is fine. I need to shave your pubic
area".

That 'scared little boy' look flooded Tom's face
again. I took a battery-powered disposable shaver
off the tray and pulled up the hospital gown with
my other hand. Tom's thick, uncut penis was
nestled under a patch of black pubic hair. I
slowly shaved off all the pubic hair. Tom even
suffered with fortitude my holding his penis
upright, between my finger and thumb, while I
shaved the downy hair which covered his
testicles. I rubbed antispetic gel all over the
shaven area and then restored his modesty by
lowering his gown again.

"All done, Tom".

"Thanks", he muttered.

"Is there anything you want to ask me about the
surgery?"

He blinked. "There won't be an .. injection ..
will there?" His eyes were pleading.

"Well, yes. The anaesthetist will give you one
when he puts you to sleep".

"I can't do this. Can I get my clothes and go
home?"

"It's ok, Tom". I gently lowered him back onto
the bed. "If you want, I'll take you down to
theatre myself and stay with you until you're
asleep".

"Will you?"

"Of course. Now close your eyes and let the
pre-med take effect".

A short time later I wheeled Tom's bed down the
corridor to the surgical suite where the
anaesthetist was waiting. Expertly, he placed a
shunt in Tom's left hand before injecting sodium
pentathol.

"Count back from 100, Tom". The farm boy was
asleep at 96.

After an orderly had returned my patient to his
room I checked the catheter in his penis. Then I
went off duty, leaving Tom in the capable hands
of Nurse Irene Wirth.

The next morning I read in the patient notes that
Tom had been a bit restless during the night. The
catheter had been removed at 4.00am and Tom had
since managed to pass 200ml of fluid all by
himself.

I pulled the curtain back and my patient looked
up at me. He appeared tired but a shy smile lit
up his handsome features when he saw me.

"You're doing well", I told him.

"It hurts like hell when I pee", he replied.

"That will pass. The more fluid you drink the
quicker the urethra will heal". I filled a glass
with water and Tom obediently drank it all down.

"What happens today?" he asked.

"Well, the surgeon will look in on you shortly".
I paused. "You'll be discharged around lunch
time".

Tom didn't look too enthusiatic about that.

"Can't I stay another night?"

"Afraid not. This bed is required for another
patient at one o'clock".

"I don't have anyone to stay with", Tom said.

"There are motels near the hospital. Time enough
to arrange all that later" I gave him a
reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Breakfast will
be here shortly".

The ward was frantic as usual. After lunch I
found Tom sitting in a chair in the pleasant
sun-filled lounge, his suitcase beside him.

As a gay man I found the farm boy undeniably
attractive. He looked so out-of-place and unhappy
that I felt sorry for him.

"Tom, did you ring the motel"?

"No", he replied, miserably.

"Tell you what. I've got a spare room in my
apartment. It's nothing flash but you are welcome
to stay there until you feel ready to go home".

The drowning man grasped the lifeline I had
thrown him. "You really mean I can stay with
you?"

"Sure". I tried to make it sound as though
ex-patients stayed with me all the time. Tom's
face crinkled into a wide smile.

"Thanks", he said, shyly.

"Don't mention it. I go off duty at 3.30 and I'll
take you home then".

At the end of my shift we drove the short
distance to my apartment. I cleared some papers
off the bed in the spare room ready for Tom. I
turned the heating up high to get rid off the
Autumn chill. Tom followed me around like a
little kid.

I nuked two frozen meals in the microwave. We ate
in companionable silence. Tom had one eye on the
television set. He had never seen any satellite
channels before.

Afterwards, he watched me stack the dishes in the
dishwasher.

"Steve", he asked me "Why are you putting those
dirty dishes in that cupboard?"

I explained it was a dishwasher and showed him
how the thing worked. Tom was impressed. There
was an awkward moment when he offered to pay for
his board and lodging. I told him I was enjoying
his company and wouldn't dream of taking any
money from him.

We settled in front of the telly and Tom was soon
fast asleep. About 8 o'clock I gently woke him
and suggested he'd be more comfortable in bed.
When I checked on him later he was out for the
count. Modern anaesthetics enhance surgery but
can leave patients exhausted for days afterwards.
He was still sound asleep when I left for work at
seven the next morning.

Now I was not in the habit of hiding my
sexuality. Gay books and magazines covered the
coffee table. When I returned home that afternoon
it was obvious my handsome lodger had been
looking at them. I smiled to myself. He was
nowhere to be seen.

I found him in the toilet. From the look of him
he'd been sitting there for some time.

"I need to poop, Tom", he said, "But can't do
it". His eyes sent a subtext message: 'you're the
nurse fix it'.

So, I took him into his bedroom and had him lie
on his side, in the foetal position. I lubed my
finger and gently inserted it into his
oh-so-tight anus. His sphincter muscles swirled
around my invading finger. I pushed until there
was resistence.

"Impacted faeces", I diagnosed out loud.

"Is that bad, Steve?" asked my guest.

"No. But we don't want you straining. I'll insert
two suppositories. They should get you going
again".

I unpeeled two 'bullets' and rammed them up Tom's
hot tunnel. The muscle popped when I withdrew my
finger. I checked my watch.

"Try and hold on for at least fifteen minutes", I
advised, sitting beside him on the bed. When the
cramps started I gently massaged his tummy. Tom
actually managed twenty minutes before bolting
for the toilet.

Sometime later he emerged looking both relieved
and sheepish.

"Better?"

"Oh, yes!" he affirmed.

The next afternoon when I got home from work my
spare set of house-keys was on the table along
with a note. 'Thanks for everything", Tom had
scrawled. My lounge was a pleasant sunlit room
but it felt cold and empty without the farm boy.

Weeks later, he turned up on my front door step.
He'd just been to the hospital for the usual
post-operative checkup by the surgeon. I asked
him how he'd got on.

"If peeing was an Olympic sport, I'd win Gold",
he declared.

It was my day off so I invited him in. He settled
in a chair as if he'd been there all his life.
The TV remote was within reach but he didn't rush
to find that cartoon channel he liked.

"Can I ask you something, Steve?"

"Sure".

"You gay?"

"Well, I'm definitely merry", I replied
flippantly.

His handsome brow furrowed as he tried to work
out what I meant.

"Sorry, Tom", I said quickly, "Yes, I am gay or
queer or whatever you want to call it".

"You have .. like .. a .. steady boyfriend?"

"No".

"But you're a goodlooking dude".

"Thanks!" I smiled at him. "It's been years since
I last had sex with a man".

There was a long silence.

"When you did it", Tom asked, "Were you the man
or the woman"?

"Uh, the passive role".

"The woman?"

"Well, if you want to put it like that, yes, the
woman". I tried to seize the intiative. "What
about you?"

Tom coloured. "I've done it with a girl a couple
of times but when I was shooting my seed it was
your face that came into my mind".

"I see".

"I was wondering if you'd let me make love to
you? No kissing or sucking". He pulled a face.
"Just up your behind".

My hand gripped his and I took him through to the
bedroom. We undressed. His impressive penis stuck
out like a broomhandle. He allowed me to slip a
lubricated condom over it. I knelt on the bed. A
warm hand touched and then explored my mounds.

"You've got a boy's behind. A NAUGHTY boy's
behind". His hand smacked by orbs affectionately.
Then I felt the broomhandle against my puckered
hole. I relaxed and actually pushed back until
the mushroom-shaped head was inside. He did not
pause but rammed the full length of his pulsating
shaft into my hot, tight chute.

Tom was not to know that I often pleasured myself
with a vibrator. The sensation of having that
living part of him lodged inside my tunnel was
infinitely superior to any vibrator.

He started thrusting, slowly at first but then
hard. I squeezed my sphincter around his shaft
but still the relentless pounding of his thighs
against my mounds continued. It was many minutes
before he gave a shout and I felt his flesh swell
and then deflate. He pulled out of me with a
plop.

"That was awesome!" he declared.

I cleaned us both up and then suggested a shower.
Tom didn't protest when I got under the spray
with him.....

... A cartoon cat was chasing a mouse, closely
watched by my farm boy lover.

"What time does your bus leave?"

"Uh, ten thirty".

I glanced at the clock. It was quarter to ten.

"I'll take you down to the bus depot".

We drove in silence to the less reputable part of
town. I parked the car and turned the engine off.

"Keep in touch. Yeah?" I asked him.

He leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth.
His tongue made it perfectly clear what he
planned to do to my behind the next time we met.
We untangled and he made his way towards the bus
depot. Just before he disappeared from my sight,
he turned and waved. I drove back home. Inside
the apartment Tom's man-scent lingered in the
air. I took a deep breath, no longer feeling so
alone in the world.

Comments welcome unclesteve_1999@yahoo.com